Wow. 6 months and my last Sakura Bloom Sling Diaries entry. On one hand, the time has flown by. On the other hand, my time as a Sling Diariest marks my time here in the Boston area: Pittsburgh feels so far away.
With my last entry, I’ve been given the task of writing about community. It feels so perfectly fitting.
It causes me to ache with the pain of missing my community back in Pittsburgh, only to wipe away the tears to reveal an incredible community here in our new village.
Neither better or worse, but each are beautiful in their own way.
I’ve moved a few times in my life, but many were when I was too young to remember. I did the back and forth from college for four years, moved to Pittsburgh after graduating, and hopped around a bit with apartments and our home there.
The packing of boxes.
The unpacking of them.
The purging. The cleaning.
All of those things are hard and fun and time consuming and real.
It’s the leaving though.
I’ve talked about it before, but the village we had was something special. The tribe of moms and dads and neighbors and friends became stronger with every life event. I understood the village needed to raise the children, and I saw its beauty firsthand.
Leaving our community. Leaving our village. It was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.
With the pain of leaving, brought a door open to a new community. A different community. At first I didn’t want to open myself up — I wanted to pretend like we were embarking on a long vacation, only to return “home” after a short while.
But the problem with vacations is that they are temporary: it would be difficult for a tree to take root and really get grounded if it was only going to be there temporarily.
So I’m learning to take root.
I’m learning to let myself be loved by people. I’m learning to say yes when people offer to help. I’m striving to live like we’ll be here a long while, even though I have no idea how “while” our time here will be.
I’ve already learned so much during our short time here. I’m bringing aspects of my village with me, and seeing the beauty of this new village building. This community is beautiful, quirky, loving, and patient.
As much as I dread the sadness of someday leaving here–leaving this community–I can’t let the potential sadness keep me from being present and here. I want to need this community. I want this community to need me. I want my kids to see us loving our city and its people well.
Thank you, Sakura Bloom for this opportunity to be a Sling Diarist. I am honored to part of this community as well. There are some days I wish the internet would go away, but for the people it has brought into my life, I will forever be grateful.
Growing up, one of my favorite things to do was work in my dad’s woodworking shop in our basement. He had a little desk for my sisters and I, where he would keep a bucket of scrap wood. We’d paint and glue whatever we could — he still has a little “SHOP” sign (complete with pretty flowers, of course) that I made hanging up outside of his shop space in the basement.
My love for wood and its beauty is almost genetic when you look at the history of wood-loving people in my family. My grandpa is an amazing carpenter, carver and skilled artist when it comes to wood. In his late 80s, he is still learning and trying new skills when it comes to his artistry. Every time we come home, there is something new that he’s carved and built displayed in his home. Growing up, my dad would build beautiful pieces for our home, including desks for all 3 of us girls. I cannot wait to get mine out of storage and set up for Harlow in her new room!
My dad also made our kids a crib made from cherry wood. He sent two panels to my grandpa to carve, which makes it even more special. You see, this cherry wood isn’t just purchased from a local lumber yard, it is wood from the family farm on my dad’s side. When trees were cut down, they were kept in their storage shed made for the wood — letting it dry and age, so it could be used to create.
I love how timeless wood is — it can be passed down through the generations, usually becoming more beautiful with age.
And speaking of time — see what I did there? ;) — creating a watch with links made of wood is right up there in the list of beautiful pieces of art created with wood.
Enter, Wood Watches by JORD. The minute I saw these watches, I was smitten. When I opened up the box and tried it on? They are more beautiful in person. I wanted to share some outfit ideas with you all today, inspired by my JORD Wood Watch.
// outfit one
I love navy, corals and red together, and I’d happily wear this outfit on repeat this summer. I love hats, but I always feel too self-conscious to wear them. Maybe that will be a new goal for this summer: learn how to wear hats confidently. Ha!
// outfit two
The evenings here in New England still get decently chilly. I mean, not cold, but not hot. There is often a great breeze, and I’m most comfortable with a light weight button up and comfy jeans. This would be the outfit I’d pair with an oversized JORD Wood Watch, for sure.
// outfit three
This look would definitely be my pick for a datenight. Simple. I love how your JORD Wood Watch can completely be the star of the outfit — especially when drawing attention to the same hand with a bright and bold clutch.
Wondering where the name JORD comes from? Jord, pronounced “yord” is swedish for earth, soil or land. JORD’s mission and vision was (and is) to create a sustainable, modern and beautiful timepiece — keeping their designs simple and efficient. Did I mention that JORD Wood Watches are self winding? No need to get a new battery, ever. And they also allow you to measure your write when ordering, so that your watch comes ready and sized for you.
A conversation piece. A masterpiece. A timepiece. JORD Wood Watches are really something else, and I’m honored to have had the opportunity to share them with you today!
Harlow’s at “the cation Bible school” this week, so Jones and I are getting a lot of walks and errands done each morning. It’s amazing how quickly errands can go when you’re only taking one kid in and out of a carseat. Who knew.
I’ll just be real: celebrating anything over 4 hours of sleep in a row is what I rejoice in these days. Exhaustion and mom-guilt get the best of me often when it comes to truly celebrating moments.
I find it easy to celebrate the things you’d maybe expect as a mom:
sleep-filled nights (can you tell I’m tired? ;)
potty training successes
new words
new skills!
new teeth!
But celebrating myself as a woman, wife and mom is something I avoid and shut down quickly. Whether it be a compliment or a milestone, I find reasons I failed in some way, instead.
I coulda…
I shoulda…
I woulda….
I want to be the mom who says thank you to a compliment instead of turning it down. I want my kids to see me rejoicing in small successes, so they learn to do the same.
It’s so easy for me to be too busy or distracted: the mom’s to-do list is never ending.
Celebration often feels like a ton of work. Well, maybe not a ton of work, but another thing on the list, for sure.
But I want to be the mom who celebrates finding petunias because “we can eat these mommy!” I want to be the mom who stops what she’s doing to celebrate the lego tower and the drawings. I want to be the mom who changes dinner to sandwiches, so we can spend more time celebrating a doll’s birthday at Ristorante Delicioso (that’s Harlow’s new restaurant, if you’re wondering).
I want to learn to stop and truly celebrate the tiniest of moments.
Since our move, I find myself longing for familiarity. And in small ways, that is starting to happen: I can even drive home from Trader Joe’s without using my GPS.
But the longing for a friend who’s known me longer than a few months is real. Friendships take time, and when I think about celebrating something, it’s the friends who have known me for years that I long to be with.
I know the days will be long, but the years will be short. Memories will be made and moments will be celebrated.
One thing we’ve celebrated as a family is the purchase of a home here in the Boston area! It’s been bittersweet for me, as sometimes I felt like we were just on a long vacation and heading back to Pittsburgh in due time. But knowing that we will have so many reasons to celebrate — both large and small — in this home together is what causes me to truly rejoice.
We go often to check on its progress and explore. We’ve named the bunny family in the backyard, Harlow’s claimed a bedroom, and I sit and pray for laughter and celebration to fill the now empty spaces.
I want to be a mom who celebrates home wherever home may be.
It’s easy for me to try to skip ahead into a home to settle into, nights filled with sleep and no more diapers. It’s easy for me to say, “I’ll celebrate then.” and “I’ll celebrate when…”
I don’t want to be a skipper, and I don’t want to wait. I want to stop and celebrate, even when my heart is missing family and feeling heavy. I want to stop and celebrate, even when I’m exhausted and sleep is all I want.
I want to be the mom who finds joy in the mundane and celebration in the chaos.
a thorough or dramatic change in one’s appearance, form, etc.
Most of us don’t go through life making drastic transformations overnight–growth is a process whether it is growing tall or wide. Change is often subtle and slow: it goes unnoticed in the day-to-day even though it is constantly at work.
As our lives were turned upside down from packing and purging and moving to a city, I knew transformation would be inevitable: new location, new normals, new routine. Ultimately we are the same people simply living in a new city, but all the newness provided the gift of a fresh start. Andy and I spoke at length about the habits we wanted to develop further and the habits we wanted to leave with our old zip code. We set a precedent from day one regarding how we managed and spent our time together and apart.
Since our move to Boston, I have seen beautiful transformation occur in all of us: a beautiful and thorough change.
Our time spent together is more often and less rushed. Our adventures are more frequent and intentional. Work is present, but not controlling, and priorities have shifted.
Motherhood changed me: it continues to change me. Every day is full of teachable moments and if I’m being honest, I’m usually the one doing the learning.
And while yes, some of the transformation is physical–my arms shake a bit more when I wave and I usually look 6 months pregnant at the end of the day, to name a few–but the transformation I see most drastically is the one within.
My days are spent putting others needs before mine — in the moments I find it most difficult, I am brought face to face with my own selfishness and need for change.
Change is often subtle, yes, but I don’t want to skip ahead. I want to maintain a pace that allows me to ache a bit with the growing pains. I want to be aware of the transformation occurring both in me and in the members of my family. I want to document the milestones, so that drastic change is noticed, yes, but if I had to choose, I want to be present and aware of the day-to-day subtleties even more. I’ll forever be one who loves the gift of a new morning, new month, or new year, but I want to fall in bed each night knowing that I was intentional about being present for the day and whatever challenge of change it brought me.
I often think of laughter as a distant memory or an old friend. I look back on it fondly, missing its authentic sound and voice. I never forget, but as time goes on, the small details lose clarity.
What exactly did her voice sound like?
That door was what shade of blue?
And time continues. Moments and faces fill the spaces once occupied by those tiny details now fussy in my memory.
I often think about laughter in this way.
I often think of laughter as a muscle once used, once strong.
The memory of the motion — the running, the lifting, the punches — is still there, but the memory isn’t enough to maintain the strength.
It must be flexed and used. It must be broken and strained, so that it can grow stronger.
I often think about laughter in this way.
With motherhood came the responsibility of more lives than just my own. Lives I put before mine — even as I sleep, with one eye open. Always watching, always looking, always thinking….
always worrying.
I find it so easy to worry, yet so difficult to laugh. The worry plays the trump card in every hand. The laughter is moved to the “do tomorrow” list.
I’ve strengthened the muscle of worry. I’ve revisited its memories and face. I’ve let my laughter muscles atrophy.
The worry voice sings loudly:
Did I play with them enough today?
Did I show my love?
Did the bill get paid?
Why didn’t he nap?
What will others think?
What if… what when… how will…
From the lightweights to the heavy-hitters, I allow them to consume me. Punching down the genuine laughter, leaving reasons to worry behind.
If you can get me to laugh — really laugh — you’ll hear chuckles turned to silent, shoulder-shaking laughter. As I silently laugh with tears streaming down my face, small squeaks make their way out as I inhale. An friend of mine used to call me “window washer”: my laughter mimicking the tiny squeaks you hear as the glass is polished until it is shiny and clean.
Shiny and clean.
Motherhood isn’t shiny and clean — you can do it all “right” and still be left with heartache.
Is it possible to laugh while the heart hurts? It is possible to genuinely laugh when life just feels hard and heavy?
I want to be the window washer again.
Harlow has a laugh that is simply beautiful. She squishes up her nose. She squints her eyes shut. She giggles loudly. She laughs often.
The other day I said to her, “Harlow, I love your giggles.”
She replied so matter of factly: “I just love to laugh, mommy.”
And in that moment I realized that laughter is like so many things forgotten: it doesn’t have to be.
It is a muscle that doesn’t want to be lost. It is a sound that wants to fill the air. It is a feeling that wants to be experienced, contagious to oneself and others.
In that moment, I realized my motherhood needs my laughter.
Laughter doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. Laughter doesn’t mean that I have this motherhood gig — or life gig — figured out.
Laughter means finding joy in the tiniest of moments: to even for a moment forget all the reasons to worry. I want to show my kids that life is more than responsibilities–being their mommy is more than the weight of it all. It is having the honor to laugh at the crayon mural on the freshly painted wall, to laugh at the joke you’ve heard one thousand times, to laugh with joy when it doesn’t mean you are happy.
Even in the middle of heartache.
Laughter may not make the world shiny and clean, but I’m beginning to believe that the sound of true laughter has the ability to polish a small piece of the heart. One moment at at time.
Well this project might be my new favorite. I know. I know. I always have a new favorite…but that’s probably a good problem, right? I love pushing myself creatively, but I also love making something we would maybe otherwise buy. A mobile, coat hooks, snack bags, and now fleece socks for Harlow’s rainboots!
If you know anything about Pittsburgh, you know it rains a lot. It can be gorgeous and sunny, too, but I always joke that it’s why we pay Pittsburgh prices. If we had weather like San Diego? We’d be paying for it too! Well, it’s also been raining a good bit here in Boston…and we don’t pay Pittsburgh prices…so……. Anyways….I digress.
Rainboots. A must around these parts, but they always seem to eat the little socks Harlow wears when she takes them off. I knew I could buy a pair of fleece socks, but we decided to have fun making and customizing a pair together instead!
The PDF patterns for the actual sock is available at the end of this post, but to alter the pattern to fit your selected boots, you’ll need a few measurements of your own as well.
The first measurement we will need is the sole of the boot. The biggest thing here is the length — then determine how the boot fits/how wide you want the fleece sole piece to be cut. I used the outline of the boot as my sole piece — including seam allowances.
You can take the length of your sole measurement and modify my pattern. Using the .JPG available below, you will want to resize the sole to the correct length — depending on how much you are resizing it, you may need to change the aspect ratio or the width will be off. Be sure to modify all of the pieces at the same time — especially the “foot” and “sole” pieces.
The next modification you’ll have to make is for the leg of the boot. The best way to do this is simply place your boot on the pattern piece — the ankle of your boot should hit at the bottom of the pattern piece. Extend the piece with more height or change the width, etc. Just make sure it’s about 1/4″ taller than your boot leg and the opening is about 1/4″ wider as well.
When you’ve created your leg boot piece, you’ll need to alter the cuff of boot piece to match the opening width. I promise this will make sense as you do it. :) You can also change the height of the cuff piece if you want more or less folded over!
After you’ve created your pattern pieces, cut everything out of the fleece. Be sure to cut the pieces on the fold that need to be — the foot, leg of boot and cuff of boot.
If you are just creating the fleece boot, you can skip to the construction section of the project, but if you are embroidering the cuff like I did, then keep reading here! As I’ve mentioned previously, I’m still very new to embroidery, so between learning about all of the thread and stabilizers and designs and whatever else, I’m also figuring out what works for me. I’ve decided I’m approaching it like quilting: there is not just one “right” way of doing things.
Moving on! Goodness, I’m a bit rambl-y today — sorry!
Because we are embroidering on fleece, I’ve chosen to use 2 layers of a medium weight stabilizer and a layer of water soluble stabilizer on top. I love the water soluble product for materials like minky, fleece and velvet — it keeps the design from sinking into the fabric. A quick rinse and it’s gone.
Hooping — getting your sandwich taut within the embroidery ring — can be a little intimidating at first. Try to hoop your fabric as centered and straight as you can. I find loosening the outer ring, pulling the layers tight and then tightening the rings seems to work best for me.
After I’ve hooped my fabric, I use the plastic guide to line up where I want the embroidery image to go. I’ve purchased this image (Hallie the Hippo from Doc McStuffins) from iBroidery — there are thousands of images and text available.
Align your embroidery pattern using the PE770 screen. I always check the perimeter of the design — as shown in the video — so I can see exactly where it will stitch. When you are ready to begin, just follow the color instructions on your machine. This design took 20 passes to complete.
I always recommend watching the thread throughout the entire process. One catch of the thread can mess up an entire color, so you want to be sure it’s loosely feeding the thread, as the tension on the machine takes care of the rest.
When the design has been embroidered, you can begin the construction of the socks!
I used a serger for mine, but a zig-zag stitch would work great too. You don’t need to worry about the fleece fraying, but the zig-zag stitch will allow for stretch. First, mark the middle of your boot leg and foot pieces.
Using pins, line up the top of the foot piece with the bottom opening of the boot leg piece, as shown below.
Serge in place.
Next, pin the cuff piece to the boot leg piece as shown below.
Sew in place. Be sure to check the direction of your embroidery design, so it’s right side out and up when folded over the boot.
For this next part, you will be pinning the back of the sock and also pinning the sole to the foot piece. I like to do this in tandem, so you can remove any excess from the top of the foot piece. (No matter how many times I measure, I always end up with a little excess on this piece.)
Pin the back seam down to the top of the foot piece. Pin the sole to the foot piece, starting at the center of the toe.
When you get to the back, pin in place and cut the excess fabric either with a scissor prior to sewing or with your serger.
If serging, be sure to tack your threads in as shown above! After you’ve sewn down the back seam, sew around the sole.
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